


Teasing

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [66]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blushing, M/M, Mutual Pining, PAINFULLY oblivious gays its B A D, implied/cut off misgendering, just so so much awkwardness, oblivious gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: A series of pick-up lines in the lives of Remy and Emile





	Teasing

**Author's Note:**

> for these prompts on tumblr:
> 
> A prompt for LAOFT: Remile fluff. Maybe with Emile either being a pure innocent bean or much darker than anyone expected. Hopefully with more Emile wearing dresses (from anon)
> 
> LAOFT prompt: whatever i have to write to have more remile in my life (from [@trivia-goddess](trivia-goddess.tumblr.com))
> 
> hi so i was wondering if i could request some more laoft remile? either pre-relationship angst with remy and emile pining for each other but being gay idiots or actual dating fluff would be really awesome ( from [@ilovemyspoopydad](ilovemyspoopydad.tumblr.com))
> 
> Could we please get a little more LAOFT Remile goodness? Maybe with Remy being completely wrapped around Emile’s finger, like Virgil pointed out? ( from an anon)
> 
> Hey, so I’m only up to Blush in the LAOFT Oneshots so it’s entirely possible there’s more of it but if there isn’t more cute Remile content can I please get some? Please and thank you vv much if you do? (from an anon)
> 
> came over here to ask for more of that sweet sweet Remile content… if you have any more ideas I’d love them (from an anon)
> 
> AKA we all need more remile in our lives
> 
> and thanks to [@trivia-goddess](trivia-goddess.tumblr.com) for betaing again! many thanks and love

Remy really ought to avoid talking when Emile Picani was around, because he just could not seem to say anything that _wasn’t_ painfully creepy.

But it was like getting hit over the head with a frying pan – Remy would be doing something totally normal, minding his own business, and then here comes _Emile fucking Picani_ in pastels with big brown doe-eyes and Remy would just start spouting the first bit of nonsense that popped into his head like a concussed poet.

The solution would probably be to just _avoid_ Emile – just walk away, and Remy always told himself he was gonna do it, but then he’d actually _see him_ and Remy’d be trailing after him like they were magnetized.

Because Remy was just a little bit pathetic, frankly.

So here he was – a booth at the farmer’s market, supposed to be selling tickets for the fall play, and he’d taken one look at Emile in a sundress the same shade as his petal-pink hair and a straw hat across the way and been over there before he’d even thought about moving.

(It wasn’t like they were selling tickets anyway – maybe at least in part because Roman was manning the table too, and he’d brought his not-boyfriend-but-totally-his-boyfriend Logan Sanders with him, and they were loudly arguing about whether or not Romeo and Juliet was a love story.)

“Hey, sugar, come here often?”

Oh, for the love of - _“come here often,”_ like they didn’t live in a town the size of an airport and _everybody_ came to the damn farmer’s market, Remy was gonna punch himself in the face.

Emile got that same deer-in-headlights expression he always got whenever Remy talked to him, and gave him a tremulous little smile.

“I, uh- y-yeah, I do,”

“Great,” said Remy, trying to plow through the awkwardness with sheer nerve, “Whatcha getting?”

“Oh, um, just- just some honey,”

Emile waved the little gold jar in his hand.

Right. Because they were standing in front of Beth Jennings’ booth, where she sold _honey._

Maybe some Good Neighbor would take pity on Remy and turn him into a frog, that’d be fantastic.

“Beth’s stuff is great,” said Remy, shoving his hands in his pocket, “Not quite a sweet as you, but I don’t think anything is,”

Emile turned bright, eye-searing pink, and then Remy realized what he’d said and _what the fuck is wrong with you Adams._

Emile made a strangled noise that didn’t sound like English – probably some kind of indignant sputtering about how Remy was being a _creep_ – and bolted like he had the Wild Hunt on his heels.

Remy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Smooth move, Casanova,” said Beth.

“Oh, shut up, _Betty_,” Remy snapped, knowing Beth was most likely gonna go straight to Remy’s brother and Nate would probably never let Remy hear the end of it.

“Where’d you go?” said Roman when Remy returned to the table.

“None of your business,” Remy muttered.

Roman shrugged, and returned to his argument.

Remy set his head on the table and groaned, wishing more than anything that the ground would open up and swallow him.

—

The cool thing about Home Economics was that Emile sometimes came away from the class with a new bit of clothing he’d got to make himself, or a neat knitted hat, or cupcakes.

The not-so-cool thing about Home Ec was that, well, now Emile had a bunch of strawberry cupcakes that he really should not eat all by himself, even if they were mini ones, but, you know. _Cupcakes._

“Whatcha got, Picani?”

Emile yelped like a kicked terrier, startling so bad he fumbled the cupcake tupperware, and it slipped out of his fingers and tumbled to the ground.

Emile winced, waiting for the crash and the scattering of pastries – but it never came. When he opened his eyes, Remy had the tupperware clutched in his grip, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said, “Didn’t mean to spook you,”

“It’s okay!” said Emile, _way_ too loud.

Remy grinned and Emile felt a little faint.

“So, what’s in the-?”

Remy gestured to the container.

“Oh, um, they’re strawberry cupcakes,” said Emile, taking the container back.

“Can I have one?” said Remy.

“Of course!” said Emile, too loud, _again_, and then nearly dropped the container all over again trying to get the stupid lid off.

Remy took the offered dessert, and they were small enough that he just popped the whole thing in his mouth.

He immediately rolled his eyes, and Emile shrunk back a little, cringing.

Remy smiled at him, shaking his head.

“Cute as you are, _and_ you can bake? When God made you he was showing off, babe,”

Emile had not the faintest clue what, exactly, he said just then – but what he _did _was shove the tupperware back into Remy’s hands and run away.

Again.

_Why_ Emile couldn’t seem to _relax_ whenever Remy Adams got within five feet of him he had no idea. Well, no, actually, he knew exactly _why_ – because Remy was handsome and sweet and constantly making flirty jokes that made Emile’s stomach do all kinds of funny little flips.

But Remy flirted with _everyone_, that was just how he _was_ – Emile was the only one who couldn’t seem to take the joke because of his monumentally huge crush.

Emile was nearly all the way to the front doors of the school before he realized he’d forgotten not only his backpack and his coat, but also that he’d just given away one of his mom’s tupperware, and that he was now gonna have to go _find_ Remy at some point to get it back.

Swell.

—

Remy had been late to every single class today, and he was gonna _keep_ being late to every single class for as long as it took everyone to understand that the Pennybacker kid was 100% _off fucking limits._

A guy behind Elliot muttered something to his buddy, a nasty grin on his face, and Remy was already halfway across the hall before they’d really started in on their snickering. Thankfully, Elliot hadn’t noticed yet.

One of the guys opened his mouth to say something – no doubt stupid as fuck – but before Remy made it all the way over there was a slight and pink-haired figure dragging both of them around the corner.

Remy gaped, outright running now, and expected to come around the corner to Emile being penned in like a caught rabbit, which was… not what happened.

“- a fourteen-year-old, because that’s not totally _pathetic_,”

Remy had never heard Emile sound quite so scathing. His arms were crossed, and both the guys were looking a little stunned and a _lot_ sheepish.

“No, really, explain it to me,” said Emile, “What went so wrong in your life that you think it’s impressive to pick on someone fresh out of middle school, I’m _super_ curious?”

“We were just gonna joke with h-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” said Emile coldly.

Remy shivered a little, which was just embarrassing.

“Leave Elliot alone,” said Emile, “They’re a kid, and you are nearly grown men, and it’s frankly _embarrassing_ for you to be acting like that. Grow up,”

“What he said,” Remy cut in. Emile went tense, but the guys paled, and Remy gave them a little salute from behind Emile.

“Yeah, alright fine,” one of them muttered.

Remy made sure his expression conveyed _I’m watching you,_ glaring so hard he was pretty sure they could feel it on the back of their heads even as they walked away.

“Thanks,” said Emile.

He sounded a little shaky, and Remy spun on his heel, barely stopping himself from reaching out.

“I, uh- didn’t do much,” he said sheepishly.

Emile scoffed.

“Oh, please,” he said, a little sharper than he normally spoke, “I’m well aware you’re the only reason I don’t have a black eye right now,”

He shook his head.

“I just- Elliot doesn’t deserve that at _all_, and I couldn’t just let those guys _pick_ on them, even if it meant getting myself in hot water. So- thank you, really,”

Remy’s heart gave a weird little throb at just how _sweet_ this guy was.

And then Emile _smiled,_ not a trace of his usual nervousness, and Remy was pretty sure it had straight-up popped like a balloon.

“You’re an angel,” said Remy, “How’d you escape heaven, is the security that bad?”

Emile’s smile held for a moment, and then his eyes went round as quarters.

“I- I mean,” he sputtered, “Uh, n-no, just, just-”

“Well, uh, good talk,” said Remy, a little hysterical, because he was a graceless idiot, “Uh, lemme know if those chucklefucks bother you, I’ll break their noses,”

Great. Great! Blatant come-ons and threats of violence, that’s what normal people say to their crushes, Remy, you’re doing _fabulous_.

He gave Emile a little wave and turned away, consciously keeping his gait steady until he got around the corner and could slam his head into the lockers.

On the bright side, Emile hadn’t run away this time.

Somehow, it didn’t really feel like a win.

—

Emile tried not to read too much into the fact that he was invited to Remy’s parties. _Everybody_ got invited because their school was tiny and a party needed bodies.

(Emile tried even harder not to read into the fact that Remy always invited Emile in person, instead of just letting it reach him through word of mouth, because the _last_ thing Emile needed was something as pitiful as _hope._)

So it was just a coincidence that Emile wore his brand new pleated red skirt and the jean jacket with swirly autumn leaf embroidery on it. And makeup. And the boots with heels his friends said made his legs look nice. He wasn’t trying to impress anybody.

Okay. Maybe pitiful wasn’t _that_ far off.

It didn’t help that Emile was just about the only person present who _wasn’t_ already drunk, because getting the alcohol meant _talking to Remy. _And Remy was either gonna comment on the outfit or he wasn’t gonna say anything and Emile had no idea which one of those ideas was more crazy-nerve-wracking.

Steeling himself, Emile made his way over to the truck.

“Hey, Remy,” he said, hoping the shake in his voice wasn’t as noticeable to Remy as it was to him.

Remy turned, and his eyebrows shot up behind his glasses, like he was surprised. Emile couldn’t blame him – he was pretty sure this was the first time he’d ever initiated a conversation between them.

Remy tilted his head, and Emile had always thought the sunglasses thing was cool and mysterious but right then he would have given just about anything to see Remy’s eyes and have _any_ idea what the other boy was thinking.

“Holy shit, Emile,” said Remy.

Emile’s face went hot.

“What the hell, babe, you’re gonna get the party shut down. It’s _gotta_ be illegal to look that good,”

“Oh my _goodness_,” Emile blurted before he could stop himself, covering his face to try and hide his reddening face.

Remy laughed a little nervously, and _gosh_ why couldn’t Emile just _act normal_ for like five seconds?

“Did you, um- were you here for booze?”

Emile uncovered his face, nodding and trying not to look totally mortified.

The rest of the conversation was stilted and awkward – Remy wouldn’t even _look_ at him, and Emile was just trying to get through it as fast as possible so he could go crawl in a hole and die of shame.

“Finally joining the party, Picani?” said Jessie. Normally, she would have picked up immediately that Emile was upset – never let it be said Jessie Donahue couldn’t overthink just about anything – but she was already so far gone on moonshine she didn’t notice at all.

“Definitely,” said Emile, and he carefully did not look at Remy for the rest of the night.

—

“Wait, so they’re… aliens? I thought they were magic,”

Emile nodded against Remy’s collar with a little “mhm,” and Remy huffed a laugh.

“To which part? Are they aliens or are they magic?”

“Yes,” said Emile, “Sufficiently advanced aliens, you know how it is,”

“I made you watch Thor last week so we could ogle Chris Hemsworth together, not so you could quote it later and use it against me,” Remy complained.

Emile just giggled, resting his head on Remy’s chest again and looking back at the screen.

If Remy was being completely honest, he’d agreed to watch Steven Universe for one reason and one reason only – his boyfriend’s heart-stoppingly pretty eyes. And his smile. And the way he’d clasped his hands in front of him when he’d asked and the way he’d pushed his hair behind his ears when Remy had said yes and-

Okay, uh. A lot of reasons, then.

Remy hadn’t thought he was going to get _invested._

But he had, so it took him a bit to become aware of the eyes on him.

Remy looked down, and Emile was watching him intently and nibbling a bit on the corner of his lips.

“What?” said Remy.

Emile didn’t answer for a moment, and then he sat up, a little abrupt. Remy tried not to pout from the loss of him in his arms.

“What’s up, babe?”

Emile cleared his throat, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“A-are you an alien?”

Remy gave him a baffled look.

“Uh, no?” he said incredulously.

Emile’s cheeks were flushed red, but the smile on his face was honestly kind of- teasing?

“Are you sure?” he said, a little steadier, “Because I think you abducted my heart,”

Remy stared.

He threw his head back with a groan, covering his burning face with his arms.

“I’m dead,” said Remy, “You killed me, babe, that’s it. Dead boyfriend for you,”

Emile just giggled, returning to his place on Remy’s chest.

“Noooooo,” Remy whined, peeking out from behind his arm, “You can’t. You’re too cute, I can’t _take it_,”

“Payback,” said Emile, booping his nose.

“Wh- _for what,_ what did I do?”

Emile’s mouth dropped open.

“For the _pick-up lines,_ Remy! AKA, the reason I couldn’t string two words together in your presence for like _four years?”_

“Pick-up… they weren’t _pick-up lines_,”

“What do you call them then?” said Emile.

“Your gorgeous face just shorting out my poor brain-to-mouth filter, to be honest,”

“Pick-up line!”

Remy snickered, cupping Emile’s face and shaking his head.

“It’s not a line, sugar,” he said, feeling like his whole chest was trembling, “I really just- fuck, I say all sorts of stupid shit when I look at you. Can’t help it, it’s like getting _clocked_ you’re so pretty-”

Emile cut him off with a shrill giggle and a flush-warm kiss.

Remy was a little salty it had taken them this long to get here.

But now that they _were?_ He was _definitely_ not gonna leave any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> im also [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr - im not taking prompts right now but feel free to send an ask!


End file.
